Chapter 1
It was the summer holidays, and Hermione couldn't endure being so far away from the place she considered her home, and the place that right at this very instant was at the edge of grave peril, Hogwarts. It's only been a week since Dumbledore's death, and it was a week filled with magical mischief, she was so sure, in the wizarding world, though she had no steadfast proof that the muggle killings the past week was directly related to the Death Eaters. Proof or no proof, she knew. But distant she was, as she sat in her bedroom, that hasn't changed much since she entered Hogwarts, six years ago. She hadn't bothered with redecorating, since she spent 10 out of the 12 months per year at Hogwarts. There were times when she felt that 2 months spent at home, with her parents, was way too little. But right at this minute she'd have given anything to be back at Hogwarts, or at the Weasley's, helping the Order, being useful somehow, because at home she felt helpless and weak. All her parents could think about was taking her to the beach or to see a movie or some inconsequential affair that didn't really matter to her. It wasn't that her parents didn't care about what was happening in the other world, they simply didn't know. Hermione plainly didn't tell them; afraid that they wouldn't send her back to Hogwarts the minute they knew that their daughter's life was being put in danger.
It was just a little past supper and the night sky was barely subdued, though not a single star was at sight. Hermione looked out her window into the empty street down below. So quiet, so undisturbed, as though nothing in the world was wrong. Tears filled her brown eyes as she remembered the Headmaster and reconciled the fact that she would never see him again. Then, as she turned to sit back in her bed, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw movement. Of what or where exactly, she wasn't sure. She waited, looking in all directions, waiting for the same, struggled budge. But minutes passed and nothing came. More minutes passed and Hermione gave up.
She was walking back home, from a short trip down the road to the grocer's for a bit of shopping errands her mum made her do. With the brown paper bags between her arms, Hermione looked up at the night sky and tried to find a single star. But there wasn't. It was as though all the stars went out the night Dumbledore passed, for she hasn't seen one since then.
Hermione looked down the road, and from where she was standing, she saw that same struggled movement. But of what, still she wasn't sure. And it didn't help either that it was a dark night. She hurriedly walked over towards the bush where she saw, well, something. She bent over to peer into the thick twigs of the bush. But she saw nothing. Not even when she rounded back to behind the long row of green brambles. She sighed in frustration. Then she thought of something mightily frightening, whatever was making those motions had to be something magical. For it seemed to disappear too quickly for a muggle, or animals, for that matter.
Back in her bedroom, later that night before she went of to sleep, Hermione stood by her window and looked down the street and stared at the bush. She may not know what it was, but at least now she had an idea of where it could be. Unless, of course, if it decided to relocate. Hermione was strangely happy to realize that whatever was hiding out there hadn't relocated, for she saw that struggled movement again - and a flash of something yellow.
She ran quick, and was lucky to remember to grab her robe to wear over her pajamas, and stumbled down the stairs and out onto the street. She then quietly approached the bush, dismayed that she had forgotten to bring a flashlight. But even in the dark, she knew she wouldn't see anything – there was nothing to see. Perhaps an invisible cloak hiding something, or someone, she thought to herself. Then she found a long, thin branch on the ground and began poking, until she found herself jabbing at something she couldn't see, lying behind the bush. She bent down to remove the cloak that she was now certain was covering something down there. She felt no cloak, but there was a person, of that she was now more sure. But what was making it invisible?
Hermione walked around the bush and started towards the person, when he suddenly began to appear. Slowly, the shape began to form, the colors started to fill in, and there, lying in a heap on the filth, his face bloodied, his robes torn, and his blond hair awry, was Draco Malfoy.
He fled into the dark forest, not knowing where to go or what was happening back up in the castle. All he knew was that the task has been accomplished. Dumbledore was dead. But it wasn't he, Draco Malfoy, who had completed the task given to him by the Dark Lord. Rather, it was Snape who had whipped out his wand and performed the unforgivable killing curse. It doesn't matter that Draco had spent grueling hours inside the Room of Requirements, formulating a plan and went about fixing that damned cabinet, for in the end, all those tormenting trials that almost cost him his sanity will still lead him to the Dark Lord's evil punishment. And he knew, as most of the Death Eaters already figured out, that You-Know-Who would soon be after him – to finish him off for not completing the task.
He had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, not even his mother. For he knew that although his mother loved him dearly, she feared the Dark Lord even more. So he fled, into nowhere, into somewhere, vying for time until he could think up of a way to survive. He kept on running, blindly placing foot after foot, aimlessly wandering, hoping against hope that he would not be found. He traveled for days until he forgot how many times the sun had risen and set.
He lived off the earth, for the first time in his life feeling what it was like to starve, to thirst and to fatigue. Initially it was easy, he saw it as some sort of adventure, picking berries, and building fires, magically catching fishes in the lakes, and while he was near Hogwarts he could also command food to come to him with a little help from his trusty wand. But as he traveled further and further away from the castle, he found it harder to procure food from the kitchens.
At nights he would lie under trees, beneath the starless skies, and pretend he was in his own bed. He would often fend off centaurs and was delighted when he would spot unicorns now and then. But most of the time, the thing that got to him was the troubling thought of Voldemort's revenge, and that when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came for him, he had no one to turn to, no one to help him, not even Snape, and especially not Dumbledore.
Then he found himself grow weaker and weaker, miles away from Hogwarts, starving, faint and unmistakably wounded, an upshot of physical, emotional, mental and psychological warfare against the unknown. But he continued to ramble on forth, he must've been on the edge of Britain by now, he had no idea, all he knew was that he must go on. He stumbled forth until he was too exhausted to go on any more. He crawled towards a mulberry bush and gave in to the weariness that consumed him. Scared that someone, specifically You-Know-Who might spot him, he cast an enchantment upon himself that turned him invisible, unless he was sure that the individual who found him intended him no harm. This took most of his energy. Then he fell into a deep sleep.
There would be times when he felt severe hunger, he would twitch and shake, and he would clutch his stomach until he could no longer feel anything. Sometimes, he would wake, look around him, but all things were a huge blur now – mixture of green, brown and yellow. There would be cars passing by, dogs coming to take a sniff, sometimes growl at him, children would sometimes pass him as they went to and from school, but by and by the sounds melted into one, and he could no longer make a distinction between them.
Until one dark night, he assumed it was night though it was always dark to him, when someone picked his head up and laid it on something soft and swept his hair away from his wet face. He tried his best to open his eyes with all the energy he could muster and saw beautiful brown hair. He opened his mouth, trying to say something. The angel who held him gently quieted him with a soft "shhh…"
"Gr… Granger…" he whispered, before falling back into the depth of the abyss he had just awoken from.